Moriarty's Revenge
by Nadia Leigh
Summary: Moriarty is ready for his revenge and hes coming for Sherlock, and his forgotten family. How will he help his beloved family and friends? Read and review, better than the summary always is, right? Flames are excepted. And just to let you know, I only just finished season two, so some of the chapters are pre-finally, some later ones post-finally. Rated T for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Sup! So this is my first Sherlock fanfic, so please be nice. Ah, who am I kidding, tell me how it is! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own. This is for the whole story, by the way.**

Chapter One: The Daughter

I walked down Baker Street, as I always did once a month. Special time, that is. No matter when during the month I come, he always seems to disappear right before I show up. Believe you me, he ain't hiding. I literally searched the whole flat once, just to see if he, indeed, was hiding. But, alas! Nothing. Maybe he's always off helping the police with his "expert skills", or maybe he just doesn't want to see me. Whatever the case, Sherlock Holmes avoids me at all costs. But, I do have Mrs. Hudson to look forward to visiting, though today it will be a rather short visit, for today I'm just here to change and then leave for a date with a handsome, young doctor who I went to school with, before I graduated with my own PhD in psychological and criminal diagnostics. Fun job, that is! Kind of like Sherlock's, I bet. 'Course I wouldn't know because he doesn't text me back- and I know he gets my texts! He always prefers to text when being talked to!- or answer to the letters I leave him every month. I'm beginning to wonder if he even reads them! Because I am starting to put some random, crazy stuff in those letters! Last month I said I was pregnant- at sixteen! But nothing came back. Whatever. I'm here, anyway.

I rang the bell and waited for Mrs. Hudson to come and answer it, which she did quite swiftly, a disheveled look on her face.

"- and I swear, your roommate is horrid, Doctor. Oh! Sia, how are you!"

"Great, thanks. I'm just here to change." She ushered me in out of the cold before asking,

"Oh, from the clothes you've been sending over or the stuff you've got upstairs?"

"The stuff upstairs, mum." You see, Mrs. Hudson is like a second mother to me… but she's mum. Mothers' mother.

"Oh, can you stay?"

"'Fraid not. But I'll be back later."

"Okay. Well go on, then." For the first time, I turned my eyes to the other man in the room. He was rather short, even compared to me! And I'm mothers size; Tiny! Anyway. I just nodded to him and went up the stairs to 221B. For some reason, the man gave me a funny look and followed me up the stairs. When I got to Sherlock's place, the door was open so I walked in.

"Um, excuse me, but who are you and why are you in my flat?" I turned to this man who must be the doctor mum had been talking to a moment ago.

"Oh, forgive me. Does Sherlock Holmes not live here anymore?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then that's all you need to know." I turned on my heels and walked to Sherlock's bedroom before changing quickly and leave. Well almost, anyway. I was almost out the door when that doctor stopped me.

"Wait, miss. Who are you? So- so I can tell Sherlock you stopped by." I frowned, not unlike I always am.

"Just give him this and tell him I'll be back in an hour," I said while taking off my diamond bracelet- the only gift Sherlock ever gave me. With that, I left.

…

When I got back, I went straight in and straight up the steps, but stopped short of the door, which was cracked only slightly open. Yes, I know eavesdropping is bad, but when you hear an argument going on that you don't won't to be a part of yet, well. You stay put.

"Why didn't you call me right when she got here?" Ah. That was Sherlock.

"I did! You didn't answer me!" The doctor from earlier? Okay…

"Well then why didn't you text me?"

"Sherlock! I DID! YOU didn't text back!"

"Now now, John. No need to yell. I'm right here." "John" gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sherlock, just tell me who she was!"

"Is," I said, stepping out of the shadows. "Hello, dad."

**AN: The best way to do this next scene is by saying bold is Sherlock talking, **_Italics is Watson talking, _and Normal is Scarlett talking. **Good luck!**

"_Dad?"_

"**Sia."**

"_Sia?"_

"Yes, Sia."

"**Sia, John. John, Sia."**

"Really dad?"

"**What?"**

"_Hello? I'm right here. I'm John."_

"And I'm Sia-"

"_Yes, I've gathered that, thanks."_

"Back to Sherlock-"

"**Yes, what did I do?"**

"Really? You're just going to introduce me as you did?"

"**Well why not."**

"Oh I don't know, maybe you could have said, 'Well, John. This is my daughter Sia, who I love very-"

"**And who is also being selfish by speaking of themselves-"**

"WHAT?! Me? Selfish? If I may point out YOU were the one who left mother with me! And the one-"

"**Let me ex-"**

"I'm NOT finished with you yet! YOU were the selfish one who left your own child to just her mother! And who doesn't even care to call me back or text me or even see me! I come out ONCE A MONTH! You couldn't take one day to see me?! And I'M the selfish one?!"

"_Yeah, I'm just going to step out for a moment…"_

"Oh no, John. Please stay to hear how UN-perfect your mate is here!"

"_I'd rather not."_

"**Stay John. I may need you to pry her off me."**

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"**You're like your mother and when your mother gets mad, she attacks people. If you do, I'll need John to hold you back."**

"Oh, please. You can't even hold off a tiny girl? What have you become, _Sherlock?"_

"**You are my daughter and you will not call me by that name."**

"I'm your daughter now? What, are you going to finally read my letters?"

"**That's enough! I have been reading your letters! Now will you please let me explain myself!"**

**AN: Yeah… I'm done with that now.**

I was so taken aback by his sudden outburst that I shut up, tears of anger threatening to fall from my eyes.

"Thank you," he said. "Sia, believe me when I tell you, I have been reading your letters. Every time you come, I'm really just not home. Now as for leaving you with your mother… It was for your own good… I was young, just starting with Scotland Yard and I wasn't ready for a baby."

"Neither was mother! She was _seventeen!_"

"Really? Wow," John interjected. Sherlock and I gave him identical sneers. He looked to the floor. "Right. I'll go make a brew."

"May I finish explaining?"

"Yes, and while you're at it, explain the man Moriarty."

"You know of Moriarty."

"Well of course. He's the reason mother sent me out here to live!"

"Oh dear… this is not good. Nope. Not good at all," John muttered.

"You've come to live here?"

"Yes, dad. I have. Now who is he?"

"Sia, when did you find out about him?"

"He came to mother and I's flat and told her something about you and that he'd be back." The way this is going is starting to scare me…

"Oh God. Moriarty is the man whose trying to kill me."

"W-what?"

"He's after me! Whens the last time you heard from Ismilda?" _Oh no. Mother!_

"Almost two days ago." Dad picked up his phone and called our flat number, putting it on speaker. It rang thrice, then a man answered.

"_Hello. I'm sorry but the person you are trying to reach is… a bit tied up at the moment. Can I take a message?"_

"Moriarty."

"_Ah! Sherlock! I was wondering how long it would take you to call. I take it Miss. Holmes is with you?"_

"I'm-" my voice broke. "I'm right here." Sherlock eyed me wordlessly, examining my reactions and watching how I reacted to things.

"_Splendid! Now if you just hold on a moment, I'll go into Ismilda's room… And here she is!" A scream could be heard over the phone._

"Leave my mother alone!"

"_All in due time, child. All in due time. Now let me tell you something about poor Ismilda, shall I? She's taken a bit of medicine, so she won't be with us much longer." Another scream. "Hmm, yes. It's quit painful, I might add."_

New tears formed in my eyes, but I had learned from years of work that crying is what these monsters wanted. So, I swallowed my tears. Sherlock was still examining me with the same look in his eye.

"_She's only got a few seconds left. Anything you want to say, Ismilda?" There was a pause before my mother's voice came onto the phone, strained, but true._

"_Si… I love you hun...ny… Sher… Lock… Take care of … her…"_

"Mother? Mom! Mom, I love you, too! Mom!" A sob escaped me and I let myself sink to the floor, Sherlock's steady hands on my elbows.

"_Say goodbye, Ismilda."_

"_Good… bye… my l… love…"_ My mom took her last breath and Moriarty came back on the phone.

"_Watch your backs, Mr. and Miss. Holmes. Watch your backs. Tata!"_

Once his voice was gone, I let myself fall into Sherlock's arms as I cried.

**AN: Hope you liked! I'm going on vacation, so if you liked it, your gunna have to wait a little bit. Later!**

**~Nadia ;)**


	2. The Games Begin

_Johns POV_

Well, this is awkward. I can't really say… Okay, I can't really say anything. I don't have kids. In fact, I don't really like kids all that much. I was like Sherlock; I had no ties to a woman- or man, because it really is okay!- and I have no ties to children. I mean, sure I have Harry, but, we don't really take much. And it's sort of the same for Sherlock! He has his brother, but, i guess they actually talk… sort of.

Like I said nothing to say.

Except maybe this: Sherlock's daughter is just as odd as Sherlock can be. Yes I will admit that my first thought of the girl when she had arrived was that she was one of Sherlock's new "love interests" after Irene. A tad young and a bit of a look alike, but still, one never knows when it comes to the great Sherlock Holmes… and his daughter… Sia… But as I stand here watching the exchange between two, I must yet again wonder how much of Sherlock I still don't know; or how much of this long list I actually _want_ to know. He's holding her as she cries out for Ismilda with such tenderness that I never before have seen, his eyes glistening with unreleased tears, and his words speaking to her so softly-

"John."

Speak of the devil, "Yeah?"

"That tea would be good now… please."

I raised my eyebrows at his use of manners and replay, "Right," before heading back into the kitchen to make a brew.

_Sia's POV_

For minutes- or hours, I'm not really sure- all I could see was rain. Not real rain, but what rain would look like if my eyeballs were windshields on a car. Sherlock held me tight, whispering words of sympathy to me whilst rubbing circles on my back. I… I just have no words for this. I've just lost the only person in my life that's ever been there for me; the only person who's ever raised me- loved me! This just makes this worse and more tears begin to fall, faster, harder and hotter than before. I feel Sherlock put his chin on the top of my head and it moves up and down, as if he is speaking, but I have long since blocked him out. Suddenly he pulls me to arm's length and makes me look at him, rubbing the tears from my face, not that it's helping, but he does it anyway. He says something, but my mind is still too clogged with tears. All I wanted to do is put my head back on his shoulder- he shakes me to get my attention, and I realize… I realize he's apologizing.

"-sorry. It's all my fault this happened. If I hadn't left your mother when I did, none of this would have happened. God, I'm so stupid! I should have come and got the both of you when I could have. Right after Moriarty tried to blow us up. God, I'm so sorry, Scarlett. I never wanted this to happen to you." I can only nod, for I fear if I try to speak, only sobs will come out. "Come with me," he continues. I give a look of confusion through my tears, and he helps me up to sit on one of his two overstuffed armchairs. He sits across from me and holds his hands on my shoulders, as if he is afraid I might fall over.

By now, my tears have begun to die down, and my shoulders stop shaking from the sobs, yet my hands won't stop from my fear and anticipation. I feel no better, of course, but I swallow hard and ask Sherlock the first question that needed answering.

"She-_Dad._ Wha… what's going on?" He gives me one fleeting glance before looking to the floor. "Dad?"

"You've just been brought into the fight for your life, that's what's going on."

"Sherlock, there is really no need to be so rude."

"I'm not being rude, I'm giving it to her straight. She has now been roped in with me, you, my brother and probably Lestrade, and maybe even little Mrs. Hudson- everyone who is connected to me! John, don't you see? Moriarty is playing with us. He could have taken my daughter and Ismilda out without me even knowing, but he told me and- oh, of course." Realization dawned on Sherlock's face for the briefest moment, then he stood and began to pace, his hands together, middle fingers touching the top of his lips. John sighed before sitting in his seat.

"What the hell is he doing?" I asked quietly.

"He's, ah, going into his mind palace. It's where-"

"I know what it is," I sniffed, tears no longer falling. John hands me a cup of tea, sighing again.

"Best get some sleep. He does this for hours."

"I'm not tired." Which is a lie. I haven't slept in two or three days, so I was a in need of at least a few hours rest.

"Right, of course not. Your Sherlock's kid. Must not need food either, I suppose? Yeah. This will be very fun." John stands again and begins to walk off, but I know I caught him off guard with what I say next.

"Actually… I haven't eaten in a while… My stupid date didn't take me to dinner after the film at the cinema. Would you… would you mind?" He shook his head in bewilderment and went back into the kitchen. I stood and walked to Sherlock. It takes him a moment to notice me.

"Where are you?" I ask timidly.

"431C Rights Street." _My flat._

"And you see…?"

"_Everything."_ I took this as a hint to leave him alone as he entered his inner-psyche.

_John's POV_

Yeah, this Holmes is definitely an odd one. Then again, when _isn't _a Holmes odd.

They are going to butt heads at every turn, aren't they? Oh God, why? I haven't even been bad! Since the war, I've only killed once, and he was going to kill my best friend! Ah… well at that time, my future flat mate.

Right, this is going to be _so_ much fun.

_Sia's POV_

I remember at about midnight- or an hour after the phone call, to be more specific- I retreated to Sherlock's bedroom, knowing he only slept there when he was being forced to. He would probably fall asleep on the couch, like I did at home. John has pointed it out that me and Sherlock were very similar, which I already knew. We looked alike, too! Pale skin, dark, curly hair- though mine is quite a bit longer- blue eyes, and slender builds. I, unlike him, had a round face. Got that from mother, of course. Intellectually, I was much faster than mother, and went through school quickly, and became a prison examiner. This is a very odd job, much like Sherlock's. I talk with murderers and other felons get them to talk, get their weaknesses. I was the very best, back home. Cracked every man they throw at me, no matter how big or scary, they always left for their cells with tears in their eyes. However, I was just as precise and punctual as my mother. God, mother! Never again shall I see your beautiful eyes… your smile that you always wanted me to mirror, but I never did… Why did I never smile back? I was happy, oh so happy! What was the matter with me?

I shake my head and turn from the mirror I had been looking into. This was crazy! And yet, not crazy enough to not cry a second time. I hope I am silent enough to be unheard by Sherlock or John, for I have not the strength to face them until morning comes.

I cover my mouth just in case and climb into bed, my cell phone on the night stand. Just before I fall asleep it rings. I look at the text and am immediately awake again.

_Welcome to the game, Miss. Holmes._

_JM_

**AN: Well? Let me know! And to correct my summery, I just finished season two of Sherlock!**


	3. Irene

**AN: Wow. This is FUN! **

**Disclaimer: Did I say yet that I don't own Sherlock… or the characters, besides Scarlett, Ismilda and the plot? I thought not. Well, I don't. Yeah, just remember this is for the whole story! Laters!**

**I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN REVISED TO FIT A NEW NAME FOR SHERLOCKS DAUGHTER, SUNCE ALL OF THE FICS WITH HIS DAUGHTER IN IT HAVE HER NAMED AS SCARLETT... SO NOW IT'S SIA (SEE-AH).**

…

_Sia's POV_

No. No no no no no NO! Oh, God no! How did he get my number? How could he know…? How did the arsehole know all of this stuff?

"Because he's Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal and master mind of the world." Yes, that was Sherlock. As soon as I had got the text, I had ran back into the sitting room and showed my dad- John was asleep- and I'm now sitting in his armchair, holding the union flag pillow.

"How did you… of course," I said. "Simple deduction. Written all over my face, I'm sure."

"Yes, quite." He was examining my phone, mumbling quietly to himself. He through my phone back at me, unexpectedly… and I squeaked… but I caught it! Sherlock gave me an odd look, as if to say "what was that for?"

"Why did you throw that at me?"

"Why did you… squeak?"

"You throw a phone at me!"

"So?" I just rolled my eyes.

"Whatever. Why did you throw me my phone?"

"I need you to send a text back."

"And you couldn't do it?"

"No. I have to send my own text." Right as I nodded, he turned and yelled. "John!" I again jumped.

"Really?!" He just shrugged. John, however, came running in, looking around like some bad guy was here.

"Sherlock! What's wrong? Is he here? Wha… There's no one here! What the hell, Sherlock."

"I need you to send a text," Sherlock replied, emphasizing the 'x' and the 't'. John threw up his arms and sighed.

"You've got to be kidding!"

"He's not," I replied.

"Well, why can't he send it?"

"I have to send my own!"

"What about you, Sia?"

"He's making me send one to Moriarty."

"Mori- Sherlock what is going on?"

"Shh! I'm thinking."

"Oh, right. Sorry. You just woke me up in the middle of the night to send a text to God knows who and _I'm_ not supposed to talk!"

"John?"

"What?!"

"Shut up."

"Right, then. Who am I to text?"

"Lestrade. Message: He's coming. Be ready for chaos. Sherlock Homes."

"Who's… Sherlock, what's going on?"

"Everything," he whispered.

"Of course," John rolled his eyes. "Obnoxiously vague as usual."

"Oh, you've been spending far too much time at the pub with Lestrade. Just send the text and be on your merry way!"

"This isn't about me being on my 'merry' way! It's about you being a-a-a psychopath-"

"Sociopath," I interjected.

"Oh, whatever!"

"John, don't shout at her!"

"I wasn't-!" A pause. "I wasn't shouting."

"Yes you were."

"OH SHUT IT SIA!" Both men shouted as one. I throw my hands in the air in exasperation. Wasn't dad just defending me? And now he's shouting, too? Dear, God, mum was right! Dad is insane! Just then, mom walked in through the door in her nighty and a dressing robe.

"What's all the fussing about?" I just shook my head.

"He woke me up to send a _text!"_

"And if you'd just do it, we could go to sleep, _John."_

"Holy shit. Is it like this every night here?"

"No, dear. I'll just put in some tea. You boys just sit and send your messages." With that, she was off, scurrying about the kitchen. John huffed and sat down, grabbing his phone from his pyjamas pocket. Sherlock smirked and pulled out his own phone, sent a single text and turned to me.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Wha-" I sighed. "What shall I tell him?"

"Let the games… begin."

…

After tea with mom, I went back to dad's room and fell into a fitful sleep. Well, it was fitful for my body, but not my mind. I dreamt of a large brown building. At the top there stood two men, one just a bit taller than the other. They seemed to be arguing. There was a struggle and one was shot, the other jumped from the roof. I tried to run forward to see who these men were but as my feet moved me along, so did my dream. When I looked around again, I was on a deserted street somewhere cold. The taller man from earlier crossed the street and turned to look down an alley. His face was supposed to be in my line of sight, but it was too dark to see him. A woman stepped forward and handed him something. He read it quickly, then slid the paper into his pocket and grabbed the woman's hand. She smiled. I don't know how I knew, for her face was also concealed, but she smiled. They both then turned their backs to me and walk away. I made to follow, but I fell into some sort of hole and the next thing I knew I was lying in bed. But it wasn't dad's bed... it… it was my old bed? Was all that Moriarty stuff just another dream?

My suspicions were crushed when my mother walked in in her deep green dress that she wore every Christmas. She had a beautiful smile on her face and I realized I was living in a memory, and a pretty old one at that. I was six years old and today was the day I got my famous diamond bracelet. Mother walked deeper into my room, both her hands behind her back. She smiled and told me Happy Christmas and gave me a large hug and when she pulled away, a blue velvet box rested in my lap. I looked up at my mother's face with a smile. She nodded and I opened it. It looked innocent enough! A note shined through first and I picked it up before looking through the rest of the box. Yes, even at the age of six, I was more mature than most, so I was more interested in cards and letters than the presents as a whole. This letter, however, made me stop. It was from my father, stating that he was sorry and that he would love for me to come visit him whenever I so pleased and to leave him a letter whenever, or send one if I felt down or had questions. He also promised he'd write me back, something he was never able to keep. I smiled nevertheless, in my blissful naïvetés, and put the letter aside and looked back inside the box. There lay a beautiful bracelet composed of white diamonds, set in a silver band that could be changed to fit my wrist as I grew. I smiled again, and went to look back up at mother, but when I did, all I saw was darkness. I frowned, but saw a pin prick of light far, far away. I stood and began to move towards it, growing older and closer to my true age. When I reached the light I had to shield my eyes.

…

When I opened them again, I found they were wet. Had I really been crying? I quickly wiped my eyes before turning over in bed and looking at the clock. I read seven AM. I guess no matter where I was, I was never going to be able to sleep in… Wiping my eyes again, I sat up and climbed out of bed. I walked out the door, not bothering to try and be quiet, knowing dad was probably up, and walked into the kitchen. Dad sat at the table, his royal blue dressing robe on and he was staring at his phone. I just shook my head and walked to the refrigerator. I opened it and let out a shriek. That got dad's attention; he turned to me with an odd look.

"Why the _hell_ is there a bloody head in the fringe?!" He just smirked.

"Experiment."

"And where are his eyes?"

"In the microwave."

"In the microwave. What, are you testing to see how long it takes to liquefy them?"

"Ah, I knew you were as smart as me." He turned from me then.

"Wh… Whatever. I'm going down for breakfast. Want anything?"

"Coffee, no cream, two sugars."

"That it?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Anything I should get for John?"

"Just get him a black coffee and something filled with sugar."

"Right. Be back in a few." I grabbed my jacket and slid it on and walked out the door. Three steps down, I ran into someone. Hard. I almost sent both of us tumbling down the stairs, but was steadied by the person I ran into. He- no _she_ would have been my height, had she not been wearing sky high heels. Now she was at least 5 foot seven, and very, very… womanly. She seemed to embrace her curves and flaunt every bit of her body with confidence. It was weird, to say the least, because from my years of training I could tell she was not all this. A killer maybe? Or an assassin? Whatever she was, she was dangerous.

"Carful now," came her cool and collected voice, snapping me from my thoughts. "Wouldn't want to hurt such a pretty face."

"Um, uh… thanks. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, you might be able to." She spoke without really moving her lips. How was she so stunning?! "Where might I find Mr Sherlock Holmes?"

"Ah, he's, uh, just up here. Just upstairs. I'll take you to him, if you'd like."

She smirked like she always got what she wanted. "Yes, that would be nice." I smiled slightly bewildered and turned and led her up the stairs. I opened the door and heard dad say, "Oh, good. Your back. Mind waking John for me?"

"Are you hiring young woman to do you're biding too, Mr Holmes?" Dad was silent for a moment then appeared in the sitting room moments later.

"Irene Adler." The woman inclined her head.

"Wait… you two know each other?" I asked.

"Of course. Miss Adler and I have worked on a few cases together. Now would you please get John for me?"

"Ah, no. If you want John then you can go and get him yourself."

"Oh, I like her, Sherlock. Where _did _you find her?" She reached out a hand and stroked my cheek. _Okay then. Maybe she's not a killer or assassin. Maybe she's just ruddy weird._

"Hands off, Irene. She's not your new play mate, am I understood?"

"Oh, come now, Sherlock. I'm your guest here. At least give me the decency to play."

"No, I think dads right. I don't think I want to be you, er, 'play mate'."

"Dad? Sherlock, this is _yours?_"

"Miss Adler, I'd like to inform you I can speak for myself."

"A bit cheeky, if you ask me. She could do with a little… treatment, eh?"

"Again, Miss Adler. I'm right here, and I'm quite sure I didn't ask for your opinion about my attitude, nor did my father, so I do believe it would be best for you to keep you thoughts to yourself, if you would." She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"And what would happen if I didn't." I smirked. _My turn!_

"Well, let's see. Many things would happen, none of which you would be able to prevent so unarmed and alone. Something tells me you trying to remain calm when you, in fact, feel very exposed to be back here. How did I now you've just been back? Your eyes were watering when I first saw you, suggesting you're not used to the smog here in the city, yet you have an accent that suggests you've lived her most of your life. Oh and don't be fooled by all this-" I indicated myself. "I'm a trained assassin sent in to break people like you, and yes I do mean that in the utmost _dis_respectful way. You're no better than a murderer. How do I know? The scuff marks on your shoes. Ah, yes! I noticed. Someone as put together as yourself wouldn't go around with a scuff mark on their shoes, suggesting you were running. But from what? The police of course. How do I know that? I heard the sirens half a mile out a minute ago. Yes, you're from out of the country. You're a wanted fugitive, but not for a crime against just anyone. You did something you shouldn't have to a very high profile person, didn't you. And really. You should work on concealing your real identity much better from these people. I know there stupid but just showing your face around is going to cause some major hiccups, no doubt, though you already know that, I'm sure. You're here because you were asked here by my father so I think if you don't keep your mouth shut I will have no problem with going straight out that door and getting your backside flagged all over the local spread. Though I'm sure most already know what your backside looks like, am I right Miss Adler? Or would you prefer your stage name, The Woman? Ah yes, I've heard of you, but I mean who hasn't. Your name's quite blackened in this town. Almost every criminal I've met has mentioned you. Now if you would be so kind as to shut your mouth and sit down, that would be splendid." There was silence after that and she and I did break eye contact.

"That was… brilliant."

"Thank you, John."

Adler smiled widely and turned to the man in the doorway behind us. "John," she greeted. She went to hug him but he stepped back.

"It's alright, John. As Sia has so nicely pointed out, I have invited her here on my own accord."

"But, Sherlock, she's supposed to be dead. Again!"

"Yes, John, to you, she is. But she's not, now is she? And this time, I promise I had everything to do with it."

"Oh course you did, or else she wouldn't be standing here before us, now would she."

"No, she definitely would not." Another silence followed, this one slightly longer and a bit more awkward.

"So, she's your daughter, eh? It explains those impeccable cheek bones and dashing blue eyes," said Adler.

"Don't try to make me like you more by complementing me. It's just weird."

"Sia play nice with our guest."

I huffed and said, "I won't be playing with her at all, I should think. Shall I leave the room with John so you can get to know each other again?"

Dad narrowed his eyes at me threateningly. "It's not like that with her, though I know for a fact that's what she wishes it was." He crossed the floor and came to stand in front of me. "But, a little privacy would be nice. We have some business that needs tending to." I narrowed my eyes, but nodded anyway. "Take John will you. Go get breakfast and groceries or something. Understood?" I nodded again.

"Next time, don't treat me like a child," I hissed quietly. He just smirked and nodded. I stepped past him and grabbed John before we headed out the main door, John yelling the whole way.


	4. A Not So Happy Ending

**AN: SO, AS OF NOW, I HAVE CHANGED THE NAME OF SHERLOCKS DAUGHTER (SCARLETT) HAS BEEN CHANGED TO SIA BECAUSE EVERYONE WHO IS ANYONE KNOWS THAT EVERYONE WHO WRITES A SHERLOCK-DAUGHTER STORIES, THEY NAME HER SCARLETT… SO NOW HER NAME IS SIA (SEE-AH)!**

**HAPPY READING!**

…

_Sia POV_

I dragged John down the steps, stumbling down the same one I had almost fallen down when I ran into Irene, and ran out into the cold street. I let go of Johns hand as soon as I heard the door to the flats shut. Looking to the sky, I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair.

"What the hell, Sia! Why would you drag me out of there when a woman who is supposed to be _dead_ is up there speaking to _your_ father?!"

"Ah, come on. Don't get jealous of a little girl who my father has most likely seen naked." John's face started turning red, whether from anger or embarrassment, I'm not quite sure.

"Jealous?" _Oooh, anger… _"I am not jealous. Why would I be jealous of Irene Adler? I mean why would I be jealous of anyone who got to spend alone time with Sherlock? I spend most of my time with him anyway, so wh… why are you looking at me like that?" I just realized as he had been defending himself, I had turned completely to him, my arms crossed and my eyebrow raised. I rolled my eyes. _Boys! Their so oblivious. _I began to walk my way to the small bakery next to 221 Baker Street, the smell of coffee already reaching my nose, though I know it was just my imagination. I walked through the doors into the dim lit room and found a spot to sit over in a secluded corner where I could see everything perfectly. John sat across from me, obviously still miffed, but smart enough to follow me in here. A burly man walked over to us and nodded.

"What can I get for you… two." He had spotted John's choice of attire and frowned, confused, of course. _My, it must be boring to have nothing going on in that head. It must be so… boring!_

"Two coffees, please. And a Danish for the undressed one over there."The man nodded a second time and walked away. I shifted my eyes back to John and frowned. He still looked rather angry.

"What's your problem?"

"My problem? You-" a bell cut him off from what I'm sure was a sentence that was going to end _so_ nicely. In walked a tall man with a scrunched up nose and slight pot-belly. He stood regal, with his nose in the air. I cocked an eyebrow as he walked our way. _He can't seriously consider himself royalty, could he?_

"John," he greeted. His gaze shifted to me, and a look of confusion spread on his face, though he quickly shook it off and looked back to John.

"Mycroft."

"My sources tell me that a woman, _The Woman_, has been spotted here in central London. Care to elaborate?" John gave a slight shake of the head as he said no. "Hmm. Perhaps your lady friend does?" he looked pointedly at me, and then it hit me. _I_ shared the same skin tone as Irene… and the same hair colour. _He thought I was Irene!_ I smirked.

"I'm afraid I don't," I said, dipping into a more seductive tone, like Irene's. Mycroft bought the fake voice hook, line and sinker.

His gaze intensified. "I think, perhaps we should continue this conversation in privet."

"No, no. I'm quiet fine here."

"Sia…" John warned.

"Sia? Oh, very nice. You took your initials and rearranged them. Very nice indeed."

"I did no such thing." I raised my chin to show I was not intimidated by him. He gave an odd smile.

"Of course not. Now, tell me. How did you get yourself to look so young? Plastic surgery?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," I muttered, dropping my gaze as my coffee was set down in front of me. From my peripheral vision, I was Mycroft stiff and John's mouth fall open.

"What was that?" Mycroft challenged.

"I said," I met his gaze, "Wouldn't you like to know? There are marvellous surgeries to fix that unfortunate face."

"Sia," John hissed. "This is _Mycroft Holmes." Oh, shit…_ My smile dropped and I gulped. Mycroft Holmes, I knew, was a major figure in the British government. And he was my uncle.

"Oh. Mycroft. Nice to finally meet you."

"Oh-ho-ho! Keeping up with the façade I see." Mycroft leaned in close, close enough for me to smell his last meal… not that I didn't know what it was already. Grape jam on a whole wheat roll, freshly brewed Brazilian coffee… Hmm, someone's on a diet. _Well he does need one._

"Would you mind, Uncle, stepping away from my face?" John sighed, and I could just picture him close his eyes and turn his face to the Heavens. Mycroft, however, did not look amused. His face twisted in anger and his lip curled, but he did as I asked and straightened.

"Uncle?" he asked, his voice tight. He cleared it and looked to John. "Is this somehow true?"

"Apparently, yes. Sherlock knew of her and so did Mrs Hudson-"

"I knew she was no good-"

"Hey!" I said, louder than I meant. "You'll not talk about mum that way!"

"Mum? As in mummy?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then what?"

"You're supposed to be a genius and have the whole British government at your disposal, and yet you cannot deduce who my mother is? My, my, Uncle. You have gotten sloppy." Mycroft inhaled deeply. "I'm Ismilda's girl. Oh, but wait. Yes, you wouldn't know about me, now, would you? Mother did say she knew father when he was in one of those… phases, as you referred to. She kept me secret, yes, nice and secret. But how have you not heard of me, I must wonder? Back where I lived I was quite famous. Perhaps you have heard of me, and are too stubborn to admit you couldn't connect the dots?" Mycroft gave one last glance at John and one more glare at me, before leaving. John watched him go and noticed him heading for the apartment.

"Oh, no," he whispered, before standing and running after Mycroft. I sighed once more before leaning back in my chair. I took a long swig of coffee. When I set it down, a man sat across from me, taping some sort of rhythm on his fingers.

"Hello, Miss Holmes," said the voice of a man I had only heard twice before. I felt the blood drain from my face as I looked at the man who had killed my mother only a day before; Moriarty.

"What do you want?" I asked, sounding stronger than I actually felt. He shrugged.

"Just to personally meet you, face to face."

"Oh yeah?" My fear turned into anger in a heartbeat. "Well, piss off, if you like your face the way it is."

"Oh, that hurt," he said in mock hurt.

"Not as much as this will!" I grabbed the butter knife that had rested on the table and tried to jam it into his hand, but he grabbed my wrist before I could, his face angry. His grip tightened and I gasped in pain as he twisted my wrist until I dropped the knife. He smiled venomously and tightened his grip even more. Now I was gasping in pain; gasping as if his hand was not around my wrist but instead around my neck. Tears began to gather in my eyes and I did the only thing I could think to do and kicked him as hard as I could. His grip lessened ever so slightly and I ripped my arm away, my wrist red and slightly raw. I cradled it in my hand and looked around at the other people, only just now noticing they all were being kept away by Moriarty's henchmen who all held guns. Still breathing heavily I started to back away from Moriarty. He rose from his chair and I wanted to run, but he anticipated my move.

He shook his head and said, "No, little Miss Holmes. You run, and everyone in here dies. Come with me, and they shall live to see another day." He put his arms out wide and smiled.

"What is this to you?" I asked quietly. "What is this?!" I yelled, the tears that had welled in my eyes began to fall one by one. _Who was this man to think he can come and ruin my life, take away my mother and threaten to take me away as well?_

His smile simply widened. "This is the game, my dear!" His smile dropped and his look became feral. "Welcome to it." His men began to circle in on me, coming closer and closer. I tried to back away, but a tall guard grabbed me from behind. I tried to scream, but he clamped a hand over my mouth and started to drag me back. Moriarty and his henchmen followed us out the door as I tried to struggle away, but it was no use. The man who held me was too strong. I was thrown into a car and I looked out the back window, trying to get other people's attention so they could help me. I was being kidnapped! Could no one see?

Just when we got about a mile away from the building, it exploded, killing all the people inside and all the people around. I screamed no and began to sob, thinking my father had died with those people as well. Moriarty, who was in the passenger seat, turned around and laughed evilly.

"Don't worry," he said. "Sherlock's not dead. Yet." He laughed again.

"You _monster!" _I lunged at him from the back of the car, but the man who had dragged me out grabbed me before I could hit him.

"Now now, Miss Holmes, do be nice." He cooed.

The last thing I heard before his henchmen knocked me out was his methodical laughter.

…

_3__rd__ Person POV_

…

Sherlock's ears were ringing as he came back to his senses. He remembered arguing with Mycroft (again) before the floor erupted and everything in the room went black. He remembered yelling at his brother for barging into his flat and claiming his daughter was Irene, and then freaked out when he saw the _real_ Irene. Sherlock had yelled in defence of both girls when John walked in and tried to defuse the tension. Mycroft had scuffed at John and said something rude, then yelled as Mrs Hudson came up in her dressing gown, trying to figure out what was going on. Again, Sherlock fired back at Mycroft (this time along with John and Irene) for telling the poor woman to shut up. Mycroft didn't apologize like he did last time, but instead added to the noise. Irene had stopped yelling for a moment and then made everyone stop yelling because she had something to say. She asked where Sia was. Sherlock just realized she had not come back with John, he turned to him, but John only said she had stayed in the bakery. Sherlock was about to go down to the bakery when everything exploded.

Now he lay on his back, his mind racing. He goes to move and finds that his head is throbbing painfully, but he can still move. He stands and looks around… the flat was destroyed. _Lestrade will be here soon_, Sherlock thought. But it didn't matter. He knew he had to find the other people in this flat. Coughing, he began to walk around.

"John!" he called. A cough came in response, and Sherlock went to the sound, seeing Johns clouded face in the debris. He dug John out and looked him over. "Are you alright, John?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "You?"

"Fine."

"Right. Where's… Where is everyone?"

"I don't know, but we can't worry about that right now."

"W-What?"

"Sorry. That was bad, wasn't it?" John only nodded. Sherlock sighed and began to look for everyone else. John followed suit and within no time they had dug everyone out. Mycroft seemed pissed, but Sherlock paid him no attention. Lestrade, Donovan and other policeman ran in and started asking Sherlock questions, but he couldn't hear them. His mind was set on getting out of there and finding his daughter.

"John!" he called again. His faithful companion walked up to him. "We need to get to Saint Barts. Now." John, for one, was astounded.

"Sherlock, we can't just leave!"

"We have to!" Sherlock made to leave and looked over his shoulder to see John still standing where he had been a moment ago. "Are you coming?"

"No." Sherlock sighed. A part of him needed John to come… That part of him was human, in a way; needing attention from the people he love, needing to find his family, needing- _wanting- _someone to be there for him. That part of him was what people would call a heart. That part wasn't touched by his sociopathic tendencies. That part was what Moriarty wanted to burn out. But Sherlock wasn't about to let him do that. The other part of him- the sociopathic part that only wanted to beat Moriarty- Seem to be stronger at that moment, as it was at almost every other moment. So, before he could speak, his body made him turn from John and made him walk out of his flat as if his human side wasn't even there.

But John wouldn't take it. He got angry quickly, not even realizing what Sherlock was planning to do would take all his support.

"Get back here!" he yelled. Sherlock turned around and was met with John's fist in his face.

"John…" Sherlock staggered back.

"No! Don't John me! Your brother, Mrs Hudson, your little girlfriend and I have all just been in an explosion and your leaving us!" Now Sherlock became angry.

"My _daughters_ out there somewhere, John! And I don't even know if she's alive!" With that, Sherlock's sociopathic side took over and he turned and left, wanting nothing more than to get away from this emotional madness. John, though Sherlock did not know, realized his mistake and made to go after him, his face softer than before. But a hand on his shoulder had stopped him.

"Let my brother cool off," came the voice of Mycroft Holmes. John felt helpless with the man's hand on him like that. He didn't know whether to trust Mycroft's advice and let Sherlock go, or go after Sherlock anyway. John settled for a sigh and a shake of the head, before going to find Lestrade.

…

"Molly!" Sherlock yelled as he got into the forensic lab. Molly jumped and looked up to him. Her face changed from fear to concern in a few seconds when she saw he was covered in soot and dust.

"Sherlock, what happened to you?" she asked as she came closer to him. He shook his head and began to speak frantically.

"None of that now, Molly, please. I need your help with something."

"Of course, Sherlock! But let's get you cleaned up first-"

"NO! I need you to promise me you'll help me! Please!"

"O-okay. I promise I'll help." She took a step back from him. "What do you need me to do?" Sherlock smiled gratefully as he told her his plan.

…

_Sia's POV_

…

When I woke up, I felt instantly cold. I couldn't feel my feet or my hands and as I opened my eyes I saw that I was in a world of trouble. I was face down on some sort of raft. I looked around and began to panic. This was not good. I was on a floatation device, my feet in the English Channel, my arms tied behind my back and my head bleeding. _Oh great. Now I've got to worry about the damn sharks._ I used all my strength to push myself on my knees, swaying violently from the water. _Okay, let's think… Don't fall into the water. Hypothermia will set in within minutes and if my head goes under, I'm screwed._ I settled myself in a criss-cross leg position and got ready for a long day. _God, it was freezing! _

"Moriarty," I said aloud. "I'm gunna kill you!" _I can't believe I'm stuck here! Does anybody know that I'm here? How long did it take me to get here? _

_Well, it takes-_

_Don't answer that question!_

… _Four and a half hours._

"Oh, shut up!" A pause. "Oh great. I'm talking to myself!"

_Oh, please. It passes the time!_

"Shut up!"

_I can't if you don't!_

"Fine!" Another pause.

_I lied. I'm still here._

"AGH!"

_Hahahaha! _I sighed.

_This is going to be a long day…_

_Oh yes it is!_

…

Hours later, I heard a boat approaching. My head shot up and I yelled to them to come and get me. Turns out, they were looking for me. Uncle Mycroft was on the ship, covered in dirt and dust. He pointed over to me, and the ships captain put the bout into idle as it saddled up to me and Uncle's workers helped me up. They all were speaking at once, too.

"Miss Holmes, are you alright?"

"Do you need a blanket?"

"Shall I fetch a phone for you to call your father?"

"I'll get Mr Holmes-"

"Boys, if you would kindly back away from my niece a moment…" The men backed away and Uncle came to me, siting me down on one of the benches in the front of the boat. "Sia, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. How did you survive?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"The explosion! I saw the explosion!"

"Ah, yes. Yes we're all fine. Here, take my mobile and phone John." My detached Uncle gave me his mobile then left. One of his men brought me a shock blanket before leaving me alone. I went through Uncles phone until I found John's number and hit enter. It rang several times before going to voicemail. I sighed and sat back in the bench.

As I left the Channel on that boat, my mind turned to my father. I remembered him telling me something, years ago and I become excited. I ask the detective on the ship if he's got a lap top with service. He says he does and goes and fetches it for me as I pull the shock blanket tighter around myself. When he brings it to me, I thank him and go online, searching my father's number. I try to contact him with the phone I was given to contact John (even though he didn't answer) but it went to voice mail. Frustrated, I typed feverishly away on the key board and came up with a way to pull up what he last said on the phone. I sent it to "my" phone and waited for it to come up. What I heard when it did made my heart stop.

"_Sia… I know you will be the first to hear this and I just want to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've ignored you so long and that I not only endangered you, but got your mother killed. I want you to know that I loved Ismilda very much and that I love you just as much… If not more. When your mother was on the phone with us, she told me to take care of you and that is why I am doing this. Oh, God. Uh, I'm not very good at this, goodbyes I mean. Just… Just know that I'm only doing this to protect you… I love you. Tell John that I'm sorry and please… take care of him…" 'Staying Alive' begins to play in the background. Sherlock sighed. "Tell Mycroft he was the best brother I could have ever asked for. Tell him I love him, too, even though he is an insolent bastard. Sia… take care." A heavy door was opened and the song became louder._

_Then the song stopped and Moriarty's voice came on. "Well. Here we are at last. You and me, Sherlock. And our problem. The Final Problem. "Staying Alive". So boring, isn't it? It's just... staying. All my life I've been searching for distractions. And you were the best distraction and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you. And you know what? In the end it was easy. It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary. Just like all of them. Oh well." Father didn't reply "Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get ya?" _

"_Richard Brook," he finally said._

"_Nobody seems to get the joke. But you do."_

"_Of course."_

"_'Atta boy."_

"_Rich Brook in German is Reichenbach. The case that made my name."_

"_Just tryin' to have some fun," Someone starts tapping and I have a feeling it's father. "Good. You got that too."_

"_Beats like digits. Every beat is a one, every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me, hidden inside my head. A few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system."_

"_Told all my clients. Last one to Sherlock is a sissy." _

"_I have the key here. I can get into all the records; I could kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty."_

"_No, no, no, no, NO! It's too easy. It's too easy. There is no key, DUFUS! Those digits are meaningless. There utterly meaningless. You can't possible think a couple of lines of computer code are going to crash the world around you? I'm disappointed. Disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock."_

"_But the rhythm…"_

"_Partita Number one; thank you Johann Sebastian Bach!"_

"_Then how did you-"_

"_Break into the bank, to the tower, to the prison. Daylight robbery! All it takes is some willing participants! I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness. You always want everything to be clever. Now shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it."_

"_Do it. Do what? Yes, of course. My suicide."_

"'_Genius detective proved to be a fraud.' I read it in the paper so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairy tales... and pretty grim ones too."_

_Father began to panic. "I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity."_

"_Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort. Go on. For me. Pleeeeeeease?"_

"_You're insane."_

"_You're just getting that now? Woo oh oh! Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't."_

"_John."_

"_Not just John. Everyone."_

"_Sia."_

"_Everyone."_

"_Lestrade. Mrs Hudson. "_

_Four bullets. Four gunmen. Four victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump. You can have me arrested, you can torture me. You can do anything you like with me, but nothing's going to prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only four friends in the world will die. Unless—"_

"_Unless I kill myself and complete your story."_

"_You gotta admit, that's sexier."_

"_And I die in disgrace."_

"_Of course. That's the point of this." Father takes deep breathes. "Off you pop. Go on. I told you how this ends. Your death is the only thing that's going to call off the killers. I'm certainly not going to do it."_

"_Just give me… one moment please. One moment of privacy. Please."_

"_Of course. No rush." Father begins to laugh. "What?! What is it? What did I miss?"_

"'_You're not going to do it.' So the killers can be called off then. There's a recall code or a word or a number. I don't have to die if I've got you."_

"_Oh, you think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"_

"_Yes. So do you."_

"_Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."_

"_Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you. Prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell, I shall not disappoint you."_

"_Nah. You talk big. Nah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels."_

"_Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."_

"_No. No. You're not. I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me. You're me. Thank you. Sherlock Holmes. Thank you. Bless you. As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out. Well good luck with that." There's a gun-shot and I hear a body hit the ground. For a moment, I think it might be father, but I learn it's not when he whispers no. I hear him run to the edge of the building, panting heavily. He's quiet, thinking._

_And then, father calls John. _

"_Hello?"_

"_John," he struggles with._

"_Hey, Sherlock, are you okay?"_

"_Turn around and walk back the way you came."_

"_No, I'm coming in." _

"_Just do as I ask. Please."_

"_Where?"_

"_Stop there."_

"_Sherlock."_

"_Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."_

"_Oh god."_

"_I— I— I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this."_

"_What's going on?"_

"_An apology. It's all true."_

"_What?"_

"_Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." A pause._

"_Why are you saying this?"_

"_I'm a fake," father says tearfully._

"_Sherlock—"_

"_The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes."_

"_Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?"_

"_Nobody could be that clever."_

"_You could." Father chuckles and there is another pause. _

"_I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. It's just a magic trick."_

"_No. Alright, stop it now."_

"_No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move."_

"_Alright."_

"_Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"_

"_Do what?"_

"_This phone call, it's, ah... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."_

"_Leave a note when?"_

"_Goodbye, John."_

"_No. Don't—"_

I dropped the phone, my hands shaking, and this time not from the cold. Tears formed in my eyes and a closed my eyelids tightly, not wanting any of the water to leak from my eyes. I curled up on the side of the boat, the blanket not keeping out the chill. My eyelids loosened and the tears I had been trying to keep back fall freely, just as my father had done when his feet left the roof.

**AN: AH! I'm just gunna go cry know. Stuff in italics, except the stuff Sherlock says to Sia, is from a wonderful website, quotes/sherlock/series-two/the-reichenbach-fall/, and from listening a billion times to a recording I made from the end of thezz episode on my mobile, so that should all be just as it is in the episode… except for the on time I added Sia's name in the 'Everyone' sequence. I might not update in a while… I've picked up an online college class and it's taking a lot of my time. But, if a bunch of you review, I'll get it up sooner than I think I'll be able to! Bye for now!**

**~NL**


	5. From Way Down Below

**AN: Hi guys! Enjoy! Review? **

**Hana: What are you doing?**

**Nadia: Writing an author's note.**

**Hana: And you're asking a question because…?**

**Nadia: Oh, piss OFF!**

…

_Sia's POV_

…

"John!" I yelled as soon as I saw him at Saint Bart's. "John, what's happening?"

"They're-" he cleared his throat. "They're cleaning his body." I closed my eyes as the tears began to fall. Mycroft came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, I saw that John was giving Uncle the worst look I had ever seen him give anyone. I quickly looked between the two and settled on John.

"John…?" Said man stood and gently pushed me aside, brushing off Mycroft's hand. He pushed me behind him, confusing me even more. I was about to ask what was doing on, but Johns shaking voice cut me off.

"Stay away from her." Uncle seemed unaffected by John's hostile tone and did not move.

"What's going on?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"This _bastard_ let Moriarty go."

"What?!" I walked to John's side and his eyes shifted to me for a moment. "No, he couldn't have. I mean, if he knew Moriarty-"

"Oh, he did. He had him in captivity, basically." _Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to. _That line finally made sense now!

"You knew. You _knew! _You knew he wanted my father- your _brother_- and yet you still turned him free to roam the streets? You-" I began to sob my words out- "You are the reason he is dead. You're the reason my mother is dead! You're the reason I'm all alone!"

"Sia, my niece-"

"Spare the apology,_ Mycroft." _I turned from him and began to walk towards where ever! I couldn't look at Mycroft. This is no man I wanted to be associated with. John was saying something to Mycroft and then turned to catch up with me, taking me by the elbow and leading me to some stairs. Before we got too far, I turned back to face the man I now hated the most and said to him in an icy voice, "No longer will I call you my uncle, nor will you call me your niece."

…

**Nadia: Sorry guys… I'm feeling really melodramatic.**

**Hana: Get a life.**

**Nadia: Says the made up person I talk to sometimes.**

…

The room we walked into upstairs was filled with equipment and there sat two women, one I recognized as _The _Woman, Irene Adler, but the other I had no idea about. She was tall-ish with strawberry hair pulled back into an up do. She had a kind and timid face, but was crying rather hardly into Irene's shoulder. Irene had tears in her eyes as well, but she was doing a much better job at comforting, than actually crying- though I'm sure this mystery woman appreciated it. The red head looked up as she heard the door close and she wiped her face quickly.

"John," she said. "Ah, hello. How are you feeling? Oh, that was a bad thing to say. Of course you feel bad, I mean I feel bad and I-" she started crying again so her words were cut off. John rushed over to her and engulfed her in a hug. Irene walked over from the two of them to me and grasped my shoulders, looking into my eyes. I glanced at her and saw her frown when I didn't meet her eyes.

"And you, my dear?" she asked in her silky voice that made me feel like she was a spider crawling through my very being. I shrugged, trying to make her hands leave my shoulders. Outcome: Unsuccessful. Her grip only tightened, her nails digging painfully into my shoulders. "What have you gone and done?" she asked. For a moment, I did nothing. Then I shifted my gaze upon her and spoke.

…

_Irene's POV_

…

"I have sent away the only real family I had left." After she said these words, Sherlock's daughter's voice broke and a sob escaped her lips, tears that had before only threated to fall, cascading down her cheeks in waves. I pulled my arms away for her shoulders and hugged the girl to my chest. I shed no tears because I knew where Sherlock was. I knew he was still alive. I couldn't tell the poor girl, though. Sherlock would have my neck! And Molly's, too! Oh, God. Why had he asked her?! Why must she come and help him?! He could have done this on his own, or with the help of just his little red headed friend… Who, now that I think of it, was actually very attractive. She had those nice high cheekbones just like Sherlock, but her lips were a bit too thin… nothing a little makeup couldn't fix!

The girl in my arms sobbed again and I remembered my place. I began to stroke her hair, but she only cried harder and that's when her knees gave out and she began to fall to the floor. I stopped her and lowered her down to the ground. Her sobs became worse and she was soon basically screaming. The poor girl. Maybe I _should _tell her. If I don't she might end up doing something drastic… something she may regret… something Sher-

"F-first my-y mo-ther and now m-my father! And- and I pushed aw-way my Un-ncl-le!" she screamed through her sobs in her broken voice. My heart broke for her; I know how she felt. When my parents died… I shut everyone off, blocked everyone out, and pushed them all away. And then I became _this._ A dominatrix. Sure, my job was okay. I got paid well, had good protection, knew a lot of famous people- well, I knew what they liked. Surely Sherlock wouldn't be angry if I told her he was alive? In fact, I would probably be saving her life! I could-

"I h-have to go af-f-f-ter him. I h-have to ki-ll him!" Oh, I have to do something! She'll get herself killed, then Sherlock will be even more murderous. He has done all this to protect her… It would be a real catastrophe if she went after Moriarty- wait.

"Moriarty's dead, dear." She stopped her sobbing and collected herself in a matter of minutes, as if she had done this plenty of times before.

"Then I won't go after him," she said, her voice hollow and her face void of emotion. "I'll go after his little web and I will burn out _his _heart, spider by filthy little spider. Anyone who once worked for him will be dead and before they die, I'll make them feel the pain they caused me." The girl stood. "I will make them wish they were already gone and that they had never been a part of the destruction of my father." She made to turn, but John came over and blocked the door.

"Sia, no. I just lost my best friend and I will NOT lose his daughter, too." She stared at him blankly.

"Move, John." He merely shook his head. I watched as her hands curled into fists and she took a swing at John. She was about to hit him, when he raised his hand and blocked her. With a frustrated look on her face, she swung at him again with the other hand, as John had grabbed the first. Again, John blocked Sia and grabbed her arm. That's when she fell to her knees, screaming out for John to let her go. I was heartbroken… She sounded so distraught. So alone. She was struggling against John's chest and trying to squirm out of his tight hold.

"LET ME _GO!" _she shouted, her legs giving out and she fell to the floor, only slowed down by John's strong arms. I slowly walked to her and embraced her from the back. _What she needs now is to know she's not alone._

I hugged her for a long while, until her sobs subsided and she was left with a few silent tears. She looked between myself and John and then to the ground, ashamed, perhaps because she was embarrassed she had cried in front of us, or that she had ended up on the ground. She whispered something incoherent, and I shared a glance with John before we both looked back at her.

"What was that, Sia?" John asked gently.

"I still have to go after him."

"Who? Moriarty?" Sia nodded.

"Did no one tell you?" Both John and the girl looked at me, both having heartbroken looks on their faces. Many thoughts raced through my head. _Should I tell them? They should know that he's alive. They could help! But… Sherlock didn't want them to help. He wants them safe._

I looked to the ground as well. "Moriarty's dead. He shot himself in the head." John sighed, but Sia seemed slightly upset.

"Show me his body, then. I don't believe you."

"Sia-"

"No, John! I will not make the mistake of thinking he is dead and have him back to hunt me down, too." John sighed again. Then, Molly, the cute little girl with the red hair, the only other one that knew of Sherlock being alive, spoke up.

"My friend… He's doing the autopsy of Ji- Moriarty. He's just upstairs. John, you know where he is." John nodded and slowly stood, supporting Sia as he went. I stayed on the floor until they both left the room and the door slammed behind them.

"When are we leaving?" I asked Molly, referring to when she and I would leave and meet Sherlock at her apartment.

"About an hour." There was a pause. "You almost told them."

"You wanted to, too! I just couldn't look at her face anymore… She was so sad." Molly got up from her work bench and walked over to me.

"Irene, we can't tell them. Sherlock will have our heads if we do!" I shook my head. _I know, Molly. I know._

…

**The Funeral, Sia's POV**

…

A few days had passed and I sat in the first row of the chapel, waiting for Lestrade to finish his eulogy… John was next, then me, and then we buried father. I couldn't do this, I just couldn't! It was a double ceremony, as both Mother and Father were dead, so already many people had spoken. From Mother side, her two best friends spoke and from Fathers side Lestrade and John. John was up there still, speaking on and on about how great and brilliant father was, how he would be missed and could never be replaced, nor forgotten… God, this was so stupid! Father wouldn't want to hear this and neither would mother! My mother told me father hated being bored… and he sure would be now if he was here. God, this was so dreadfully boring! Mother would have up and left by now, with me in tow, because she would have been bored, too. Or maybe because we would both be laughing! She always did crack jokes when she was bored, or nervous, or in some awkward situation. Oh, how she would be laughing now!

A flash of pain gripped my heart and made me almost double over with the memory of my mother. I was never going to see her again… Never. She was gone, and so was father. I was an orphan, and I hated it. How was I ever going to live? Sure I had John and mum, but… Mum was crying uncontrollably now and John was a wreck. Looking around, I noticed a lot of people were like that. A LOT. Man, my mother and father knew a lot of people, touched a lot of lives… Oh, God! John was crying uncontrollably now. Someone had to save him. I stood and walked to the front of the church where only John stood, seeing as no priest was need because neither one of my parents were religious. I grabbed John's shoulders and steered him away from the coffins, tears in my eyes at the mere thought of who lay within them. I began to lead John to his seat, but before he stepped into the pew, he turned back to the coffins and … saluted. A final offer to his late best mate.

With more tears in my eyes then before, I walked back up to the front, running my hands over the smooth surfaces of the coffins. _I can do this._

I turned back to the crowd of people, my hands clasped in front of my wavy black dress. I looked over the heartbroken faces, seeing some I recognized and many I didn't. I looked to the ground when I began to speak.

"I know…" I sniffed, "I know most of you probably don't know who I am, but I stand here as the one person who really knew both Ismilda and Sherlock Holmes. Of course, I never called them that… It was always mother and father." I took a moment and let my head rise to see the faces of everyone in the chapel. That would have been easy, had the chapel been big enough. A hoard of people stood outside in the watery sunlight and listened carefully to the speakers that were strategically set out. _All these people… All of them, touched by my father or mother… all of them…_

"I, ah, I definitely don't know most of you, but I hope you know at least one of my parents." An awkward chuckle rose through the audience. I looked to John. He had his head up, a slight smile almost caressing his lips. I looked to Mycroft. His face was as it always was; as if he had just smelled something revolting. I looked back at the crowd before continuing. "You know, it's okay to laugh. I know we're at a funeral, but," I looked down, "it's not impossible to laugh." I looked back up and tried to smile. "Funerals aren't supposed to be sad like this, and I know that sounds naïve and young to think, but… Come on. I just lost both my parents-" tears began to well in my eyes, but I blinked them back. "I don't want all of you to leave remembering my father's voice crying out or my mother's saying she loved you for the last time because… well… you don't know what that sounds like. But I do. And I'm walking out of this not thinking about it. I'm leaving this chapel remembering my mother's jokes and her-her silly laugh and my father's bizarre was of getting 'un-bored-" I chuckle for real at this, as does John and mum and a few others. "I am leaving here today, saying goodbye to two of the most important people in my life… Two of the best people I ever knew, or will know, for that matter! I'm leaving here with happy memories and a promise to all of you out there." At this point the chapel went eerily quiet for a few moments and I let it stay that way. Before I spoke, I took a few deep breaths, and then I said the most dangerous words Mister James Moriarty would never get a chance to hear.

"Sherlock Holmes, my father, is not a fake. Moriarty was real, and Richard Brook is fiction. And I will not rest until everyone on this God damned planet knows it."

Uproar of cheers and applause went out as I walked back to my seat.

…

**Nadia: Because I haven't posted anything in over two months… I'm giving you all a lot of extra stuff!**

…

When we- John, Mycroft, Irene, and myself- got into the car, one of the most unlikely person in the world began to protest me finding Moriarty and bringing his empire down.

"Sia, I know you barely know me, but as the last Holmes left, I must protest you going out and getting yourself killed-"

"Piss off, _Mycroft. _You are no Holmes."

"Sia," John warned from beside me, exasperated to hear me speak of suck things again.

"I know, John. I'm not planning to go out and… get myself killed by taking down his web or whatever you call it. I'm leaving that in much more capable hands," I said, giving a pointed look to Irene, who shifter her gaze to Mycroft. _Was she actually getting help from HIM? _"I'm staying here, in London. I'll be working media circulation, no thanks to Mycroft over there, and I'm getting fathers name out… I'm letting everyone know how incredibly real he was- _is._"

John narrowed his eyes a moment, not quite sure if he believed me. But I grabbed his hand in reassurance and smiled slightly. We were both grieving the same… We both wanted the same things… And I was hoping… more like wishing… he would take care of me.

As if he could read my thoughts, he nodded.

…

**Meanwhile… 3****rd**** person POV**

…

Sargent Sally Donovan held Sylvia "Sid" Anderson's hand as they walked towards the glossy black tombstone. Only one word was stamped across it. _Sherlock. _It was their freak. _Their _freak! And now he was… gone. All the cases were piling up on the desk, Lestrade was snippy with her, and she barely got to see Anderson- even though he had _finally_ separated from his wife. It was all so hard now. _So _hard.

New tears begin to glisten in her soft brown eyes. She looked to her feet, the heels of her shoes sinking deeply into the soggy ground. Anderson looked to her and squeezed her hand. Sally looked to him and gave him a weary smile of thanks through her tears. He smiled down at her and pulled her close, his arm snaking around her shoulders. It made it awkward to walk, but she revelled in the feeling of comfort he gave her. Above them, the sky rumbled with a coming storm and Sally shuddered. Oh, how the skies were right. Sally knew it. She knew they were going to meet the wall; the guardians of the grave. Maybe not at first, but they were on their way.

Maybe she and Anderson could get away quickly. Quick enough, perhaps, to get away from the storm.

But, Sally knew in her heart that would never be.

By now, Sally, still in Andersons' arms, arrived at the glossy, black grave, standing on the dirt pile atop the coffin that rested seven feet below. Here she stood seven feet above the final resting place of their frea- _Sherlock. _New tears formed in her brown eyes and she leaned her head on Andersons' shoulder and heaved a great sob. Anderson held her tighter than before, rapping his other arm around her front and whispered words of comfort in her ear.

"It's alright, now," he was saying, "Shh, don't cry. We came to pay our respects. Let's not stay long, so we don't get faced with freak Jr-" he was about to continue when a new voice was heard. This one was rough from crying and harsh from the tears that still fell from the furry in the persons heart.

"Freak Jr? You have the _nerve _to call _me freak Jr?!" _Sally began to cry harder, knowing they hadn't missed the storm, it was there… upon them at that very moment.

"I cannot believe you can stand at my fathers' grave and you still-" young Sia's voice cracked "-you still will insult him?"

"I wasn't-" Anderson tried.

"_Don't_ you _dare_ interrupt me. I am _not_ finished with you yet! How could you stand there with the woman you _cheated_ on your wife with and call me a _freak?!" _Sally looked up a moment and saw the girl completely broken and lost. She noticed Mycroft off in the distance with John, both just now noticing what was going on at the grave site. "Don't you realize," Sia continued, "what happened to the last guy you called a freak? He _died_ to save me and John and Mrs Hudson and my mother and Uncle Mycroft and Lestrade and, most importantly, I'm sure, _you. _He died so you could have it easy and so you didn't have to die, too. Don't you understand? _He died for all of us_!"

"Sia-" John called, now only a few feet away, slowing from his running pace to a walk, stopping just feet from Sia.

"No, John! They need to hear this!" John went to open his mouth but no words came out. He knew this had to happen; he only wished it was him yelling at these people, but he wasn't angry at them like Sia was. He was angry at Moriarty. He wished he was still alive so he could kill him himself, but he knew he would never come back. That, however, was only comforting for a moment, because if Moriarty couldn't come back… Neither could Sherlock.

All this only took John a minute to process and when he came to his decision, he shut his mouth and let the girl continue. And continue she did. John only hoped some of that anger she felt would be melted away by the end. Sia noticed this in John and turned back to the idiots who had called her father a freak; called _her _a freak.

"You have no right to be here," she stated coolly.

"We just came to pay our respects-"

"What respects?" she cried. "You showed him no respects in life, why should it be any different in his d-" her voice cracked again "-passing. Is it because you feel sorry or something? Hmm? Oh wait, that can't be right! Because you can't feel. You just sit there and stare and go with the crowd. Well you know what? The crowd thinks my father was a freak, too, and a liar, and most hurtfully, a fake, and I don't see any one of those people here trying to pay their _respects. _So why don't you go off and join them? You never thought what he did was real, anyway. You _always_ thought he was the killer! Always in the wrong! And you know what, Anderson? It was always you who was wrong. My father told me all about you…"

"Sia," Mycroft warned.

"No, Mycroft! I'm not finished yet!" She took a step closer to Anderson and Sally and spat at their feet, which no longer rested on her father's mound. "Look at that!" she yelled as she pointed to the dirt that was now her father. It took a moment for the shock of being spat at left the faces of the sergeant and the analyst. "Look at it!" she repeated. They did. "If you don't leave now, you'll be the next person below seven feet of dirt. And that's not a threat, either. That's a promise." Sally began to sob uncontrollably. Anderson, however, had had enough.

"Shut up," he said dangerously. Sia turned to him, her eyes showing she meant business and her face showing he had crossed the line. Anderson realized this too late, though, and he found himself shrinking back from her.

"I'll shut up when I'm dead." With those words said, as hollow as they were, Sia pulled her arm back and punched Anderson straight in the nose. He stumbled, Sally screamed, and Sia turned to her fathers' grave. "I will avenge you, father, she said quietly. "Just you wait and see." She kissed her hand and rested it on the grave, like she would if it were her father's cold, sharp cheek.

With that, she turned her back on Sally and Anderson and walked back to her Uncles' car, the two boys slowly following not far behind.

**AN: Nadia: Right, so sorry… You know, for the late update. I'm graduating early and had to stuff both 11****th**** and 12****th**** grade into one year and I was a bit busy.**

**Hanna: And yet you still ask question when righting an author's note? Wow. And we're sending **_**her **_**to college!**

**Nadia: No you're not! I'm sending myself to college!**

**Hanna: Oh, piss off…**


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